I counted eight slavegirls stationed in the garden, each in a different form of restraint. Their graceful bodies writhed slowly in the torchlight under the torment of their artfully tantalizing bondage. I noted one of them, arms stretched above her head by chains and legs doubled within cocoons of heavy straps, whose weight was supported entirely by a narrow shaft jutting out between her shapely thighs from the pillar behind her. Another beauty was bent at a right angle with her hips lashed against another pillar and iron rods connecting her collar to her widely spread ankles. Her arms were folded and strapped across her back. From her tight, jerky movements, I assumed that she was impaled on a dildo attached to the pillar.
But I had little opportunity to examine the girls closely, for I was in strict bondage myself, mincing along with short, quick steps behind my Mistress and feeling the rhythmic, painful snubs inflicted by my 12-inch hobble as I was continually forced to try to surpass its limitations. My ankles throbbed constantly under the torment. But Mistress Kelli maintained a steady tension on my cock-leash, leaving me no way to evade the hobble's punishment. Even more sadistic, of course, was the way she had told the guards to bind my arms.
A man's torso is not so flexible as to allow his elbows to be drawn together behind him the way a woman's often are, but Mistress Kelli had ordered that mine be fixed there as close as possible. And so my shoulders were wrenched painfully backwards by the straps that must have held my elbows only a few inches apart. My wrists, of course, were squeezed together in a single clamp that held my hands rigidly palm to palm.
And when you add the high steel collar that encircled my throat, forcing my chin up, and the carved ivory tongue-clamp that filled my mouth so spitefully, you can see that I was in serious, continuous discomfort. But my Mistress enjoys keeping me in this plight, and there was no way I could escape it. I am her toy, her plaything, and anything that adds to my misery enhances her pleasure.
At last we reached the platform upon which I was to be punished. With much effort I climbed the steep stairs behind my Mistress, wincing each time she jerked at my leash. Beau, the burly female chief torturer, took my leash and grinned happily at me. My Mistress went back down the stairs and took a seat with the rest of her guests.
"A whipping, eh?" Beau murmured happily. "I think we can manage that. But first, boy, you'll have to be properly stationed. Now, pay attention to me. I will have hold of your leash while your arms and legs are freed, and at even the slightest sign of rebellion, I will give it such a yank that you'll scream right through that gag!" I nodded mutely.
And so I was relieved of the bonds restraining my arms and of the hobble between my ankles, only to be secured in a more difficult pose. I was forced to step into a foot-stock at the foot of the whipping post, which was then closed to fix my ankles a foot apart, and my wrists were locked into a hinge-cuff in front of me. My arms were drawn up above my head by a thick rope from the cuff which was run over a pulley at the top of the post and down again to where my cock-leash could be tied to it. The guards tightened it until I had to stretch as high as I could to reduce the painful tension on my dick.
Now I was ready for my whipping. Mistress Kelli had been displeased with my reluctance to obey a particular command this morning, and now I would pay for my insolence. The fact that a dozen of her guests would also observe my punishment made it twice as humiliating.
Beau showed me a selection of four lashes and explained that she would begin with the broadest one, changing after every three stripes to a thinner one, until a whip scarcely thicker than a wire would inflict my final stripes. "This way, boy, you'll feel each stripe more clearly. Oh, your butt's gonna be sore tonight!"
I nodded glumly and waited, tense but resigned to my fate, while she moved around behind me. At the first crack of the broad lash across my buns, I tried instinctively to double over, and thus inflicted a hideously painful yank at my cock. The two kinds of agony, coming so close together, were enough to make me forget everything about why I adore my Mistress. Such awful pain!
As the lashes continued, however, I gradually managed to resist the urge to bend over. Standing as tall as I could, I retreated to a place somewhere beyond my mind and began to savor the fiery stripes across my buttocks, mentally admiring the texture and quality of each new dose of agony. I must admit that it came as no surprise when I felt my organ stiffening in response to the pain. Mistress Kelli had known very well that this would happen, for it had happened before. Something in me accepts bodily pain as a stimulant, and I cannot rid myself of it.
The erection, of course, made my cock-ring tighter, another source of hurt but thus also of heightened excitement. By the time Beau had completed her duties, I was quivering with arousal and actually pulling down on the rope in order to enhance the strain on my dick. I knew I should be embarrassed, but could not avoid doing what my body commanded.
Mistress Kelli mounted the platform again and told Beau to untie the rope from my cock. Freed, it stood out in front of me like a rod of iron, throbbing with the need for relief. But I knew better than to touch it with my own hands, now simply cuffed in front of me. Mistress claims it for herself, and will not allow me to take my own pleasure from it.
"Percy," she said with satisfaction, "that little toy of yours has gotten bigger. Now think! What have I told you about getting stiff without my permission?" Gagged, of course I could not answer her.
She seized my dick in one gloved hand and worked it up and down. This can be agonizing unless I move with it, and so I leaned back and then forward with each manipulation. Then she snapped her leash to my cock-ring again, now cruelly constrictive just below its head, and told Beau to secure my hands behind me once more. I submitted anxiously, fearful of what the leash could do to me.
After the hinge-cuffs were locked, Mistress reached down to stroke my quivering organ. I moaned with pleasure at her touch, knowing at the same time that if I fired off she would be highly displeased. So I did my best to hold back from cuming. She kept on stroking me, however, testing my endurance to the utmost. The temptation to surrender was almost overwhelming. At last, I twisted my wrists against my manacles as hard as I could, purposely hurting them in a frantic attempt to think about something other than my leaping cock.
At last she stopped teasing me. With a thin smile, she said, "You'd better not cum now, baby, or Mama will be mad. I'll want that hard-on for myself later." And then she made a sudden chopping motion toward it that made me flinch--and scared the urge away at the same time. My dick simply collapsed under the threat, leaving me panting with frustration. But I didn't shoot off, and that certainly spared me some additional discipline.
Beau released my ankles from the stock and then locked a ten-inch hobble between them so that I was just as restrained as before. But she didn't strap my elbows close together again, for which I was thankful.
Mistress had Beau remove my gag and then led me carefully down from the platform, through the crowd of smiling guests, and back along the walkway we had followed before my punishment. I wondered why I was left ungagged. She kept my cock-leash taut, stimulating and punishing me at the same time. But instead of hurrying past the display girls, she decided now to make me inspect each of them closely, knowing that it would excite me again. And indeed I did become aroused. Those gorgeous damsels were a delicious sight!
The first one we came to, a busty brunette, had her short-gloved arms strapped up against the sides of her head and was suspended about a yard above the ground by a chain attached to the rings set at her elbows. A hamper bar was telescoped to its maximum extension between her knees, holding her shapely thighs spread at a 90-degree angle. Naturally, this left her puss fully exposed -- and at the same height as my face!
Mistress led me to stand close to her and then ordered, "Kiss it, boy."
Wary of further encouragement via my cock-leash, I leaned forward to obey -- and nearly revived my erection as the girl's musky aroma filled my nostrils. She jerked as my lips touched her mons, and then jerked even harder when Mistress ordered me to lick her. So that was why my gag was off! I must have shown commendable devotion to duty, using my tongue as eagerly as I did, for I heard Mistress murmur, "Good boy, good boy" behind my back.
In the absence of a specific command to halt my assault on the girl's crotch, I kept at it, running my tongue through the muff of dark, curly hair and doing what I could to stimulate her even further. She stiffened, and then commenced a kind of hip-thrusting that demonstrated her growing enthusiasm for my oral ministrations. Clearly, she had been trained to respond this way regardless of how she was restrained. Her motions made it harder for me to aim my tongue with any precision, but I settled for general coverage of her crotch area and was rewarded by my victim's long, quavering moan of arousal.
Then, of course, Mistress decided that I had had enough. A sharp jerk at my dick-leash made me double over in pain and, probably as Mistress had intended, I banged my chin on the hamper bar between the girl's knees. More pain! I staggered, totally disoriented, and then followed Mistress's pull on my leash in desperate misery to the next gorgeous display girl.
Mistress gave me a moment to recover from the accident, letting me inspect this lovely prisoner. She stood with her back to a broad pillar, her wrists pulled up and back to be fixed at the rear of her great iron collar so that her elbows were even with her shoulders. Although her ankles were belted tightly together, a broad leather strap had been drawn about each of her thighs at crotch level and its ends sternly secured behind the pillar to those from the other thigh so that her crotch was unnaturally open. She wore a squeeze-bra to shape her generous bosoms and her firm, dark nipples protruded through the open tips of the bra's cups.
"Percy," Mistress ordered, "I want you down on your knees to kiss this girl's pussy, and then I want you to run your tongue all the way up to her tits, which you will then kiss and suck until I tell you to stop. Now!"
Well aware of what awaited me if I failed to obey, I went up to the girl and dropped carefully to my knees. It took some shoving to get my face far enough in between her parted thighs to commence the exercise, and of course I had to worry about getting too excited myself. Then, running my tongue slowly and widely up across her mons and quaking belly, I rose gradually to a crouch and then to my feet.
The girl was brutally gagged with a tongue-clamp, but my attentions were enough to elicit a deep moan from her. The sound became a high-pitched hum as I subjected her breasts to the assault, which my Mistress had ordered. I put my face in between them, turning from side to side and lavishing wet kisses on one and then the other, and then began an attack on her deliciously vulnerable nipples. Each received its full share of kissing, sucking, tongue-lashing, and teasing nibbles, and she responded with eager grunts and salacious sighs. Clearly, she had been brought to this level of sensitivity by long, arduous training, and the ultimate torment for her was my inability to satisfy her further.
Given the nature of my task, it was inevitable that my rod would become thickened with arousal once again, despite my frantic desire that it remain flaccid. Mistress, of course, noticed this immediately.
"Back away from her, you naughty boy," she scolded. "Bring that thing of yours over here right away!"
Breathing hard, I obeyed her. To my horror, she thrust the end of my dick-leash back between my legs, grabbed it behind me, and yanked! I doubled over in agony, for a stiff cock just can't be bent down like that! Needless to say, my arousal faded quickly under such a painful challenge.
Clearly, my Mistress was finding great satisfaction in whipping me back and forth between palpitating arousal and hideous frustration. I was, after all, her plaything, and for her this forced cycle of excitement and then denial was a source of continual gratification. As I well knew, the more misery I suffered, the more pleasure she got from inflicting it.
By the time I had finished servicing all the girls in the torch-lit garden, I could hear Mistress’s guests laughing and hooting at the clumsiness of my efforts to arouse my defenseless victims. And Mistress was talking back to them as she directed my activities, bragging of her ability to make me use my mouth in such a shameful fashion. And I was husking for breath, exhausted by the on-and-off tantalization of my body’s own needs.
"Friends," Mistress Kelli called finally, "I will leave you free to do as you will with the lovely decorations in my garden, while I take Percy-boy to my apartment for some extra training. Ta-ta, dears!"
And so I had to shuffle and stumble after her, my organ quivering with a mixture of pain and excitement and my ankles snubbing at their cuffs with every step. I whispered in desperation, "Can’t we go slower, Mistress? I think you may pull my thingus right off me!"
"No way, boy," she answered hotly. "I’m going to use that ‘thingus’ for all it’s worth tonight, and if you don’t like it, that’s just too bad." Another jerk at my leash: "C’mon, Percy-boy, I’ve got great plans for you!"
We reached the stairs to the front entrance to her mansion and I struggled to climb them because my hobble would scarcely allow me to move up each step. But at last we reached the portal. Her burly female guards smirked at my appearance, knowing quite well what lay in store for me. She led me across the entry hall and toward more stairs that led up to her apartment. I shook my head in frustration as I remembered what would be in store for me. But my leash allowed me no delay, and so I worked my way up the stairs as rapidly as my hobble allowed me.
Mistress Kelli’s apartment was guarded by a guard, Fritzol, whose job was not only to protect her Mistress but also to inflict artful torment on any slave that her Mistress pointed out. More than once have I learned just how skillful -- and ingeniously sadistic! -- the woman could be. She saluted her Mistress and opened the door. "Have a pleasant evening," she said sarcastically to me. I bowed my head to indicate my acknowledgement of her superiority.
In the bedroom stood the hideous device on which I would be imprisoned. It was carefully carved from oak, with a deeper cutout into which my body would fit. My legs would be partly spread in their own "channels," to be secured in place by several cuffs above them, and my arms would be stretched above my head and secured in the same way. But the area where my hips would lie was raised to hold me in an up-thrust poise. My cock would thus be elevated without my being able to do anything to move it. It was a bed straight from hell!
Mistress freed my arms and legs from their restraints, holding onto my leash all the while so that I would not dare to resist her commands. At her command, I laid myself onto (and into) the "bed," allowing her to snap the cuffs that would hold my arms and legs severely spread-eagled. And then, planting a wet kiss on my ungagged lips, she lowered the "hood" that would cover all but my face and my crotch. I was in for a most painful, not to mention infinitely frustrating, evening.
Once I was secured, she slipped out of her leather garments and went to find the desensitizing crème. Quite unable to move, I had to submit to her delicious kisses while at the same time she rubbed the crème over my rod. It would numb it completely, despite its developing erection, so that I would be unable to feel it at all. A band, wrapped and secured tightly about the base of my dick, ensured its full distension. No blood could flow back into my body, and so it would remain solidly erect until the band was loosened.
Mistress Kelli’s kisses continued, filling my mouth with her busy tongue and then licking my cheeks and chin. I could tell that I was fully aroused, even though I had no direct sensation in my organ, and knew that soon she would kneel above me and impale herself on my unfeeling dick. She would move in many ways, crooning her pleasure, while I lay helpless and unable to take part in the incredible exercise. My moans of frustration simply magnified her pleasure.
She must have spent 30 minutes at this, pumping up and down, and them leaning from side to side to vary the sensations she was inducing in her lusty puss. Then it was forward and backward, levering my cock in ways that should have been marvelously exciting (but were not!) before she returned to the up-and-down pumping that gave her the most excitement.
I could not move my arms or legs even a tiny bit, and so had to endure the torturous awareness that I was being used in the most degrading way possible. Knowing that she was finding such rich delight in my shame and frustration made my mind recoil in humiliation. If only I could do what a man would naturally do -- but she could not allow that. I am her instrument of amusement, not a male at all, and my emotions were no more than those of a caged dog in continuous heat.
When at last my Mistress had reached climax, arching her back and crooning her joy for several minutes, I gasped my relief at this end to my erotic torment. Maybe I would be unable to relieve myself later -- the desensitizing crème would last for hours! -- but at least I would not have to experience this endless abasement much longer.
She pulled herself up off me, murmuring her scornful thanks, and went to the bath to wipe herself clean. I could only lie there, still harshly immobilized, and dream wistfully of how it might have been had I the freedom to join in her pleasure. It was nearly an hour before Fritzol came to free me from the "bed." My cock-leash was reattached; my arms strapped up in a forearm-X behind me, and my ankles were once again closely hobbled. As an added torment, an iron brank was inserted behind my jaws and lashed into place so that I must remain silent as well as helpless. She flicked the leash and I obediently followed her out of the apartment and down to my regular cell.
I didn’t see Mistress Kelli again, and that was probably just as well. My sense of total abasement and humiliation would only have been strengthened, and I was happy enough just to be chained in my cell for the rest of the night. But Fritzol had one more item for me: an iron "chastity-belt" that would make it impossible for me to achieve an erection as long as it was locked between my legs. I could struggle against, but there was no room for any arousal of any kind. My agonizing frustration would be with me at least until the morning, if not for days thereafter.
"Percy," I told myself ruefully, "You bought into this arrangement, so deal with it!" Fritzol collared me and hitched its chain to the wall so that I could only lie on the straw in my cell and ponder the wisdom of my self-willed enslavement. But it was too late to change my mind.
END